


Desire

by marmolita



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alien Biology, F/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His gaze travels down her body, then back up to her face.  T'Pol often has difficulty reading Commander Tucker, but given his admission of attraction to her she is fairly confident there is desire in his eyes despite his surprised expression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This is the missing sex scene from 3x15 "Harbinger." It's written from T'Pol's perspective, thus the somewhat clinical language. It also contains speculation on Vulcan genitalia.

His gaze travels down her body, then back up to her face. T'Pol often has difficulty reading Commander Tucker, but given his admission of attraction to her she is fairly confident there is desire in his eyes despite his surprised expression.

"Are you sure you want to--" She cuts him off by kissing him again, and he responds wonderfully, lips parting, hand coming up to the side of her face. It's very similar to the kiss she shared with Sim, though Tucker is a little more hesitant; she is struck again by the difference between the symbiote's unflinching honesty and the Commander's tendency to keep his most sensitive feelings private despite being outwardly so emotional.

She pushes him back to sit and straddles his hips. The fabric of his pants is soft between her legs, and there is faint pressure from his growing erection. T'Pol is surprised by the strength of her desire, and how it flares up when Tucker moves his hands to her hips. There is something tantalizing about how large his hands are, about the rough calluses from his years of mechanical work scraping over her skin. She allows herself to run her hands down his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles, then presses closer to him to feel the tickle of his hair against her breasts. The movement shifts her hips forward and traps his now fully erect penis underneath her, sliding just across her slit with only the thin layer of fabric of his pants between them. She rocks her hips again and Tucker gasps, "Jesus, T'Pol."

Her research has indicated that Humans tend to use expletives to express pleasure during sexual activity, but to be sure, she asks, "Are you all right, Commander?"

"Yeah, let me just--" He reaches a hand into his pants and she moves off to allow him to adjust himself. When she sits back down on him his penis is upright between them; it is perhaps more comfortable for him though it provides less stimulation for her. "And if we're gonna have sex you can at least call me Trip." T'Pol nods in acknowledgement and kisses him again; he's becoming more responsive, more assertive, one hand moving down to firmly grip her rear and the other cupping one of her breasts, thumb brushing lightly over her nipple.

His mouth moves off of hers and trails open-mouthed down her neck. "You're gonna have to help me out here," he murmurs between kisses, "I've never been with a Vulcan."

"I have never been with a Human," she replies, "though I have of course researched Human anatomy and mating behavior." His mouth is on her collarbone now and moving down to her breast, and she can feel him smiling against her skin.

"Shouldn't be surprised you've done your research. Guess you must have been thinking about this for a while."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she admits, breath drawing in sharply as his mouth closes on her nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking lightly. He repeats the process on the other side, mouthing at her until T'Pol pushes him back to lay flat. He's letting her control every step of the situation, and she recognizes that this is his way of allowing her space to decide how far she wants to take this and room to back out if she changes her mind.

She considers it briefly. There are many logical reasons not to become involved with Commander Tucker -- Trip, she corrects herself. In fact, the reasons she should not be doing this are overwhelming, and yet she desires him so completely and so irrationally that she knows she will not stop what is happening between them right now.

"Take off your pants," she tells him, lowering herself to lay beside him. She admires the line of his body as he lifts his hips to slip off his pants, and when he lies back down and turns to her, she reaches out to touch his penis. It's different from a Vulcan's -- purplish red from the engorgement of red Human blood rather than the Vulcan green, thicker around but much smoother. The length and general shape are similar, however, so she believes she should be able to accommodate him. The skin is softer than a Vulcan male's, more delicate, and it seems to be able to slide up and down a limited amount on the shaft -- a motion Trip appears to enjoy judging by the way his breath speeds up when she tries it. His testicles are external and the skin covering them is constantly shifting and wrinkling. She traces around them with a finger and his breath speeds up a little more.

Trip trails his own fingers over her stomach and down; she parts her legs to allow him access and he sits up onto one elbow, craning his neck curiously. She glances up at him with raised eyebrows, and he says, "Sorry, just wanted to take a look at what I'm dealing with here." T'Pol removes her hand from him and lays back, spreading her legs wide open. She's surprised when rather than simply moving to look he instead begins by kissing her stomach, gradually moving lower and lower until he finally looks down, says, "Huh," and puts his mouth on her.

His mouth is hot and wet and she wasn't expecting this despite having read about it in her research. She's desired him so strongly that her slit is already open, revealing the moist folds of labia within. Trip uses his fingers and tongue to feel his way around the folds until he finds the opening of her vagina, then slides one finger in experimentally. He feels along the walls and accidentally brushes over her clitoris. If she didn't have control of her emotions she would be embarrassed by the sound that she makes, but what is embarrassment to a Vulcan? "Good?" he asks.

"Yes, please do that again," she replies. He has to search a little to find it again, but once his finger finds the nub on her internal wall he seems to know just how to stimulate it without being told. T'Pol finds herself more aroused than she's been in years, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out all over her body, her fingers clenching on the rug below her. She opens her eyes -- when did she close them? -- and finds him leaning over her, one hand between her legs, the other supporting his weight, staring at her with heat in his eyes. "Trip," she says, voice catching on her harsh breaths, "I want you in me."

"Thought you'd never ask," he says, pulling his finger out and climbing up toward her. He pauses and she bites her lips in frustration at the delay. "Do you have some kind of protection we should use?"

"Vulcan reproductive cycles are quite long. I assure you I am not fertile and do not carry any pathogens, but if you prefer, the standard-issue med kit in the bathroom is fully stocked." Trip may sometimes seem impulsive, but she has come to learn that he does in fact think things through when he considers them important. She is not surprised that he says, "Better safe than sorry," goes into the bathroom to retrieve a condom, and puts it on before proceeding.

He puts his fingers back inside her first, two fingers this time, and she breathes into the stretch. "God damn, you're tight," he says, with something like admiration in his voice.

"Vulcan males are not as wide as Humans." T'Pol shivers as he hits her clitoris again. "But I should be able to accommodate your girth."

He laughs and adds a third finger. "You make it sound so clinical."

"I assure you, there is nothing clinical about this," she says, reaching for his penis to guide him into place. Trip withdraws his hand and places it next to her head to support his weight as he enters her, moving slowly to allow her a chance to adjust. She appreciates that he's holding himself back to avoid hurting her, but it's really not necessary, so she hooks one leg around his hips and pulls him in faster. He draws in a quick breath in surprise, then drops to his elbows so that the full length of his body is against hers. He kisses her again, slowly, sweetly, then finally begins to move, slowly at first but then faster and harder as her muscles relax.

The Human penis does not have the ridges that the Vulcan penis does, but there is enough there to stimulate her clitoris on every thrust once they discover the right angle -- one of her legs hooked over his shoulder and the other around his hips. The additional girth helps as well, keeping a continual pressure on her that feels amazing. On top of the earlier stimulation it doesn't take long to bring her to the brink of orgasm and over, back arching and fingers digging into Trip's shoulders. Her vaginal muscles struggle to clench and it must be pleasurable for him because he's cursing, a steady stream of expletives intermixed with words like "good" and "hot" and "tight" and her name. His thrusts speed up as she comes down, and he cries out as his hips stutter to a halt with him buried deep inside her.

He stays there for a moment, forehead to the ground next to her, then kisses her again and pulls away, disposing of the condom and heading into the bathroom to clean up. T'Pol puts her robe and pants back on, considering how best to proceed in this situation.

She shouldn't have been concerned with it, she supposes, because when he comes back from the bathroom he follows her lead and puts his own clothes back on, grimacing slightly at the moist area on the front of his pants. "Rumor mill will have a field day with this one," he mutters. She makes a noncommittal sound and picks up her book. His eyes are on her, but she's not sure what he wants from her or if she is even capable of giving it to him. There is a long moment of silence. Finally, he says, "I think that might have been more effective than neuropressure at helping me sleep," with a sheepish grin.

"Goodnight, Commander," she says, taking the exit route he has given her.

"Sub-commander," he acknowledges in reply. His eyebrows draw together for a moment, then he shakes his head slightly, as she has seen him do when confronted with something he finds incomprehensible, and leaves.

It's probably for the best to act as if this was a momentary lapse of judgement. T'Pol attempts to convince herself that it was, in fact, a momentary lapse of judgement. An experiment in human sexuality. An attempt to understand her colleagues. A misunderstanding, a mistake.

She lights a candle, closes her eyes, and tries to meditate, but it takes her hours to purge the memory of Trip's body from her mind.


End file.
